Between the Lines
by Hollywoodx4
Summary: "The words weren't able to escape either of their lips, but remained in the air between them, lingering unspoken before the unlit fire and their interlocked fingers." A collection of missing moments mostly between the battle and the epilogue. R/Hr
1. Chocolate Kisses

He had always thought the Burrow would be the only place he would feel at home. Well, that and Hogwarts but he shrugs the thought of it off because Hogwarts is _school._ The Burrow towers over all, but still manages to be the most inviting of all homes he's seen. It bends in places to welcome him home from fall term, introducing Christmas break. The Burrow had managed, and is managing 6 boys as well as young Ginny, standing strong as ever. The yard had far outlasted games of quidditch, and one particular time when a very young Ron was not too happy about his new baby sister, trying to tell her that Charlie's potions kit was meant for playing with. Its flaws weren't flaws at all, but quirks. The house resembled his family so much that once it even made him laugh out loud.

In his sixth year at Hogwarts, he sat in his room, attempting to write something down on a new piece of parchment. He decided that his mom would find out sooner or later that the parchment he had been given the beginning of term wasn't being used for school work, if it was ever even used. He was attempting to shrink the growing pile by doing random things; drawing, folding it, and writing letters. Mostly the latter, to his two best friends, one of which was with them while the other was spending some of the holiday with her parents too, but coming for Christmas as usual.

He heard a commotion downstairs and then footsteps coming up. He groaned, knowing that his parents probably wanted him to do something for them. When they reached his door, though, his was met with faces of anticipation rather than irritation.

"Pig missed your window. You have a letter, dear." He knew who it was from immediately and, blushing furiously at his mother's wink, ushered them out the door. He was glad Harry could be occupied with Ginny, because he rather wanted to be left to his thoughts reading _her_ letter. The letter was an invitation to have dinner at her house, and he gladly accepted, always curious of his best friend's home.

It was a brick house of fair size, not too big, and yet not too small. Ivy crawled up its side, trying to touch the sun. The pathway to the door was brick also, and he liked the order he saw around him because he knew that that's how Hermione liked things. He arrived promptly at 6 a few days later, waiting outside for a good time until her parents finally came to the door.

"Sorry Ron, you must not know what a doorbell is, right?" His dad joked, giving his hand a hearty shake as he wondered what exactly a doorbell was. The thin, bespectacled man was joined by a woman, and he immediately recognized her as Hermione's mom. She had the same face, only older, adorned with wrinkles most likely gained with knowledge. Her teeth, like her husband and daughter's, were perfect; a beautiful pearly white. She shook his hand also, but then pulled him into a hug.

"It's so nice to finally have you here, we've heard so much about you." She ushered him inside and he removed his jacket and hat, placing them on a hook by the door. Hermione could now be heard from the floor above.

"Mum, who is it?"

"It's Ronald, dear." Then a procession of quick footsteps, her arms around his neck, both breathing in each other's scent. They bulled away blushing scarlet as her mom's lipstick.

Dinner was turkey and mashed potatoes, both steaming as they were set on the table. Again, Ron offered his help, but her mother declined. She gave her husband a secret signal of approval and then sat down. They had a lot to talk about, but Ron tried not to get too in-depth about magic, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable. He treaded on the waters of schooling and family because he knew they were good topics, and because he wasn't sure yet just how comfortable a family of muggles could be with their daughter's friend coming in and knowing what she knew about magic. _And besides, _he thought,_ if they're anything like their daughter, they don't like the idea of not knowing._

After dinner was done and the table was cleared by a now persistent Ron, trying to be a gentleman of course, they went to her room. It was a pale yellow, and tediously decorated. He took a moment to observe every detail she spent on it, wondering why if her months there were short. They spent a good while chatting about nothing and everything; the Weasley's latest antics, and the drama between his sister and their best friend. When the conversation came to a halt, Hermione asked

"Would you like a kiss, Ron?" At first his mind was reeling, wondering if he was mistaken in what he heard. Then, he leaned forward, so did she. Their lips finally met in the middle, electricity coursing through his body.

That was how Ron had his first kiss with the girl he loved, and how later, he realized his love for not knowing what a chocolate kiss was. As snow fell on the ground outside of her window, Lavender Brown was long forgotten by the pair.


	2. Unsaid Things

Just like that it was over. Flames were put out, and professors were picking up pieces of glass and remnants from the building, using their combined magic to get the building back together. It was weird, she thought, to be here. To wander the halls without seeing at least 1 familiar face. The lack of laughter bouncing jubilantly off the stone walls made Hermione's heart drop. Around her, she could see memories; things she had done in the very places she walked now. The quad of grass where Draco Malfoy had been turned into a weasel was rubble. The once green or snow- covered grass was an ashen black, and the walls of its surrounding rooms had begun to cave in. Now, in the ruin, Hermione saw nothing but a shell of what was. Of what at least 100s of young wizards wouldn't return to the next year. She pictured her eleven year old self getting her letter, going on the train, meeting Ron and Harry. She realized how many people would be missing out on what was the turning point of her whole life. The muggle-borns won't know, but the others certainly would.

Making her way up to the Gryffindor common room the stairs were missing stones so that one would have to take each step cautiously, like a toddler taking their very first steps. If a stone was stepped on in the wrong way, it would come tumbling down the stairs, clattering against its own as it made its descent. The ever faithful Fat Lady sat in her portrait once again, running a comb through her matted hair. Looking once at Hermione, she sighed.

"Go on dear, you look exhausted." She swung open to reveal the fire-torn tapestries. Maroon turned to black, golden lions in pieces on the floor. She was so busy surveying the damage, taking it in, that she didn't notice the pale red-haired boy sitting alone in front of an unlit fire. His head was bent downward, and she heard a sniffle escape his nose. It broke her heart. Cautiously, she moved to him with light feet. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she tentatively spoke his name. He looked up, and brown met blue. For a while, neither said anything, each surveying the other's lacerations, bruises, and scars. She sat next to him now, moving her arm so it was around his shoulder, never loosing contact.

Looking at her and all of the emotions floating on chocolate brown eyes; love, sorrow, pity, something in him snapped. He collapsed into her arms, sobbing. For a moment she was frightened by his sudden change of emotion, but she relaxed at his touch, letting his body mesh with hers. She brought her now shaking hands to his hair, running her fingers through it's matted strands. They stayed like that for five minutes, Ron being the first to pull away. Tears made their tracks along his sullied face, crossing shame and fear.

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"You miss him." She finished. Feeling like an intrusion was made on his mourning, she began to get up. She gave him one last look. He opened his mouth, then but thought the better of it and closed it again, staring into the empty fireplace. "What?"

"Please…don't leave. I…I need you." Desperation laced his voice, now small and weak. Hermione immediately calmed at his words.

"Never…never, Ron." _I love you._

The words weren't able to escape either of their lips, but remained in the air between them, lingering unspoken before the unlit fire and their interlocked fingers.


	3. Wherever You Go

There was confusion about where to go, where not to go. The students that remained sat in the Great Hall, finally all cleaned up after a few days of good sleep. They talked quietly, every soul remembering what had taken place a few days earlier. Harry entered the hall alone and heads turned, reminding him of his first year at Hogwarts. He wore his battle wounds with pride, his appearance making him look older than he really was. Some whispered, others just stared. The Gryffindor table, still the most populous, greeted him solemnly. Some whom Harry had admired for skills greater than his looked at him with such respect that it made him turn away in embarrassment, focusing his attention on someone on the other side of the room.

She too had appeared to have grown. Her hair was longer, her face more matured. _How much did I miss? _Anguish overtook him as he realized how long they were gone, how long he was away from her. He was running now, old school robes flailing behind him. Even more heads were turning as he ran past tables. She stood up, and almost got knocked down again. Their kiss was one of desperation, making up for time lost. They held each other, not caring who was looking on. Water met his cheek, and that's when he knew she was crying. He held on to her tighter, trying to be strong for her. The Great Hall was nearly silent, but someone cleared their throat and the moment was gone. They sat at the table together, never losing contact.

Professor McGonagall stood at the altar, the podium where Albus Dumbledore once stood, where Severus Snape even stood, no matter how short the term.

"Thank you." She said when all were seated. "I know this is frightening, we've lost so many. I know you won't be surprised to hear me say that this school year cannot possibly continue. If you wish to finish the year, or in some cases start the year," She looked at Harry, but not sternly. "You may do so when the time comes."

Her speech was interrupted by the echo of footsteps against linoleum, two pairs stepping in time. Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall, fingers laced, faces scarlet. McGonagall watched them walk, love for two of her favorites radiating from her. They took their seats next to Harry and Ginny, and McGonagall continued after a nod in their direction.

"Thank you all for being so brave. You used everything we've taught you and more. This has given you more experience than any class can ever give you. Sadly, it came at a cost. We remember those who died for us, fighting for pure magic. I give my condolences to the families who've lost someone great, someone who was surely loved." She paused, nodding again to the gingers at the Gryffindor table, wiping a tear from her wrinkled face. "I won't keep you any longer, you're free to go home. Have a great year, students." There was silence, which quickly turned into a great commotion of people moving at once. Harry took a minute to let everything to sink in, and was taken out of his revere by Ginny.

"Harry?" She started, grabbing hold of the hand closest to her. "Do you…have anywhere to go?"

"I didn't think about that, honestly. I was just happy to be going home." _You are home. _He thought. _It's just…different. _

"Well, I'm sure mum wouldn't mind you coming with us." Her voice was small, letting out a bit of hope at the end.

"Of course we'll have him!" Molly Weasley apparated into the Hall, standing between her daughter and her son, an arm around each.

"Harry, you very well know you're welcome any time you want. You too, dear." She looked over to see her son and Hermione holding hands and smiled, giving Hermione a wink. Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry and Ginny and Hermione to Ron, him smiling. His expression faltered when he noticed the expression on her face. He pulled her into a hug immediately, wanting to recreate what he did to a certain horcrux to whatever was bugging her.

"My parents," She began, "I can't come with you. They're still in Australia, remember? This is goodbye." She hugged him tighter, and when she pulled away his tone was harsh.

"No."

"…No?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. He grabbed her hand again, his rough skin meeting her smooth, tiny hands.

"I'm coming with you." She opened her mouth to protest, but he put his finger delicately on her lips. "I just kissed you, Hermione. I can't go another day thinking about whether or not we're going to live or die, whether or not I'll wake up and see you the next morning. I'm going wherever you go because…well, because I love you."

It was the first time he ever spoke those words to someone other than his mum or dad, and he knew it was true, and would always be true. She was crying, and she got on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. He lifted her off of her feet, taking the strain from her neck, and placed her on his own feet. The kiss broke, and she looked up at him, brown eyes shining.

"I love you too."


	4. Wedding Dress

**So I never formally introduced myself to you lovely readers :) I'm Hollywood and I'll be your author for this story! I write a lot of these in my half study during school, my friend and I write Harry Potter stories back and forth instead of regular notes because we're that cool. So anyway, here's the fourth installment.**

**You'll obviously figure out when this takes place.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not Fleur, not Gabrielle, not Hermione...nobody. Well, I do own the lady who owns the shop! (you'll see)**

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For Fleur and Gabrielle, it was almost a normal day. The sisters walked arm in arm through the plaza, taking in the sights and doing a bit of window shopping. Every so often their mother, who was walking behind them, would usher them forward, laughing with Mrs. Weasley.

"Go on, girls, we 'ave an appointment to get to." Fleur and Gabrielle laugh, but Fleur sees the time and picks up her pace a bit, much to Gabrielle's dismay. Behind the sisters, Madame Delacour and Mrs. Weasley chat idly as they walk, exchanging motherhood stories. Behind them were two other girls of similar age, right between Fleur and Gabrielle's, walking close together and sharing secrets, giggling every so often and pointing animatedly to their surroundings.

The group come to a small house with grey stone as its wall, closed between two shops of the same material. They stopped at the wooden door, looking to each other. Fleur was pushed to the door, and she cautiously knocked, her nerves taking over. An old woman answered the door, and upon seeing her company, her face lit up.

"Come in, come in! I've only just finished." They followed the woman up the stairs to a loft studio. In the center of the studio, on a pale white mannequin hung a beautiful white dress. The dress was adorned with black lace feathers, and on the mannequin's head lay a headdress of the same lace. Fleur moved toward the dress, and looked back at her company.

"Well, are you going to try the dress on or not?" Gabrielle pushed Fleur behind a screen and the group waited with baited breath as they heard the movement of fabric, and then a sigh.

"It's beautiful." Fleur came out from behind the screen and was met with seven smiling faces, each with something nice to say. The mothers in the group flittted around Fleur, making sure everything fit just right.

Ginny sighed, taking some of the dress's material in her fingers.

"I can't wait until I marry." Ginny crooned, and Mrs. Weasley looked to the girls, tuning into their conversation.

"Neither can I." Hermione replied, looking at Ginny "You'll be there, right?"

"Well, I'm guessing I'll _have_ to be there." Hermione's face turned scarlet and Mrs. Weasley chuckled upon seeing her face, knowing that her daughter was right.

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**Please tell me you get it :)**


	5. Chocolate Frog Dreams

**This is Part one of a little four part note I did for my friend Sam a few months ago. The song is "She Falls Asleep - Part Two" By McFly, and it's amazing. **

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_"She falls asleep and all she thinks about is you…"_

It was a rainy day when students piled onto the Hogwarts Express. Clouds hung overhead as the chatter faded from platform 9 ¾ onto the busy train. Students rushed down the aisles, eager to find compartments with their old friends.

Our trio, now in their third year, sat in their own compartment, luggage overhead. As the train pulled out, Molly Weasley could be heard over a lot of the waving parents.

"Bye kids I love you! Be safe!" Ron hid his head in embarrassment but the other two waved out the window.

As the journey continued, Ron had gone through three chocolate frogs when he paused unwrapping his fourth. He turned to face Hermione, who was balancing a book in her lap, bushy brown hair covering her face. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up. At contact, he sung

"Ooh Hermione!"

"What, Ronald?"

"Want a chocolate frog?"

"No, they're bad for you and your teeth and your body." He turned away, then back again.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Ronald…" She gave him a look of warning, then returned to her book. He turned again, but when he turned back to her he wore a pout, his bottom lip extended ever so slightly.

"Come on, Hermione…I'll be your best friend." She sighs and takes the frog from him while he pumps his fist in the air in triumph.

Later, the rain still hadn't died down. Hermione leaned against the cool grass and listened to the hum of the train, dozing off. She dreamt a marvelous dream where she was dressed in the finest gowns, a tiara gracing her tamed hair. She was a princess, and her prince was riding up to her castle on his white stallion. When he faced her, though, she recognized a familiar freckled face.

She woke up and turned over her copy of the book she was reading and something fell off. The chocolate frog wrapper. That was it, she thought. "Must've been the chocolate. Good, I thought I was going mad. Ron Weasley, a prince. Please!"


	6. Snow White on Christmas Eve

**About three weeks ago I started writing these mini-fictions inspired by a song by my favorite band, McFly. But because I write them as notes to my friend Sam, the first is lost, as well as the third and fourth in this mini-series. I'm asking for them back so I can type them, but for now, here's part 2.**

**The song is She Falls Asleep by Mcfly. I interprate it differently from how it's written but by the way I interprate it it's perfect for R/Hr**

**I own Nothing. The end.**

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_She Falls Asleep and all she dreams about is you…_

In their sixth year at Hogwarts Hermione faces the predicament of falling asleep in random places. For some reason, she has no piece of mind is what her parent's refrigerator is like, in a way. She has all of the health foods, her facts, stocked up in the front. Occasionally a piece of non-organic food, fun, will find its way up. Right now the fridge is full of organic food, and she has to study the labels over and over to excel like she used to. On occasion she thinks about giving up her pursuit of knowledge, but then she sees someone get hurt because they didn't know, and continues as she was.

_Because they didn't know…_what she would give to have known about this, to see it coming. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, it would have stopped the hurting. At least for a while. But she had no sign, and when she found out it felt…bad. Like he had personally punched her in the stomach, giving her everything he had.

Hermione Granger had never been open to violence. She hated all of the sports that her dad never watched, but some of her old friend's parents did. Lotta's parents liked to watch wrestling, and once they had all watched it together. When it was finished, she remembered asking Lotta why the men were hitting each other, and Lotta just shrugged.

"For fun, I guess." And they were off to playing dolls again. Hermione had thought '_For fun? What a mad idea! Who would ever want to hit someone for fun?' _She now contradicted her 8 year old self. Quite a lot, actually. Until she saw _her_ the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She had never proven herself wrong until the moment she saw them snogging right there in the middle of everything. That was the moment she wanted to reenact the show on the telly at Lotta's….really badly.

She had been good at receiving signs until that moment, too. She had known for a while that a first year boy fancied her, and when he decided to take a chance and ask her for a date, she just smiled. She remembered telling him that she was a sixth year, and he was only a first year. Ron looked at her, incredulous, and then at the boy. She couldn't tell what his eyes said; they were hidden by his hair. This was before _her_; when he would actually be able to sit with them. She just looked back at the round-faced first year and sighed.

"I'm sorry, I just fancy someone else." And she pointed him in the direction of a pretty little Ravenclaw girl who she could tell fancied him, and they ended up good friends, not a couple yet. And then she turned back to her dinner, her two friends looking at her for an explanation.

She later got the brunt of it as she and Ron walked back up to the common room.

"So…why'd you turn that first year down?" She laughed and turned to him.

"Ron! He's a first year! And besides, you heard me tell him I like someone else anyway."

"Who?" She just looked down and smiled, embarrassed to be having this conversation. _Is he jealous? _But she brushed the thought away, shrugging.

"It's not important…"

"So your own best friend doesn't get to know? I bet it's Viktor, isn't it? You're fancying the bloody traitor! I knew something was going on! I bet you're going to run off with him, huh? Well I hope I never see you again, bloody traitor." She didn't know what set him off, and she stood there, dumbfounded. As he went on his rant she began to feel anger bubbling inside of her.

"It's not Viktor but what if it was? You should _support_ me, Ron, that's what _friends _do. And I suppose that's all we'll ever be! And you know what? I guess I won't be seeing you again for a while, Ron. Goodbye." And she ran to her room crying. It was his turn to be dumbfounded, her words ringing in his ears; "And I suppose that's all we'll ever be…"

When they finally made up, it was winter break and as always Hermione was there for Christmas. It was awkward at first, but luckily they had Harry to break the tension. On Christmas eve when everyone was asleep, Hermione crept down the stairs of the Burrow to sit in the living room. Reaching her destination, she realized she wasn't alone. Ron sat on the couch in front of the fading fire wrapped in a maroon blanket, drinking pumpkin juice. Not wanting to disturb him, she started to walk out of the room, but stepped on a creaky floorboard.

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You too?" He motioned for her to join him on the couch, and when she hesitated he got up from his seat, throwing the blanket on an armchair. He scooped her up and put her on the couch, blanket over both of them. "See? I don't bite." He smiled his lopsided grin and she melted under the blanket. It was silent until she spoke, her voice quiet and hesitant.

"When I was little I never used to be able to sleep on Christmas eve. I would stay up all night waiting for Santa…" He nods and she continues, Ron getting lost in her voice, becoming more animated with each word. "Well now it seems I can't sleep at all…It's just a problem I grew into, I guess. It only started happening this year, but I haven't slept well since. Maybe it's just -"

"What's your favorite story?"

"Huh?"

"The story your parents would tell you before you went to bed, or your favorite one to read at night."

"Um…I guess it would be Snow White, why?" He sits, thinking for a while. Then he moves her gently so she's laying on his chest.

"I'm going to attempt this, so don't laugh. I have no training in muggle fairy tales, so if it comes out accurate than I'm bloody lucky." She laughs and he begins his makeshift version of Snow White, Hermione feeling his voice vibrate from his chest against her ear, breathing in the smell of new parchment.

Hermione Granger had a problem with sleeping in her sixth year at Hogwarts. She found that that problem could only be solved by a certain red haired boy, and a very loosely told version of Snow White, preferred over the once she once loved more than anything.


	7. One Word

**This is part 3 of my mini series, hope you enjoy :) I apologize for the angsty/upsetting mood of this, but it's hard to write circa battle/DH without being angsty...well, for me at least.**

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"When she's asleep the air she's breathing is for you…"

When Harry had the horcrux around his neck, she barely noticed a difference. He sat outside of the tent most of the time, usually muttering to himself. There was one instance where Ron and Hermione sat together in the tent, both unable to fall asleep, and whispered to each other. Harry opened the tent and yelled in to them.

"If neither of you can sleep then YOU can wear this damn locket!" They were alarmed, then went back to bed, not wanting to anger him any more.

When Hermione had the horcrux she came to notice that she was often sad. Basically, to her at least, wearing the locket was like having an emotionally vamped period. When she wore it, it was oftentimes at night (the boys rarely let her keep guard at night) and she couldn't let her feelings go. The horcrux whispered nasty, wretched things to her, always making her depressed and a smidge irritable. Looking back on it, she realized she had only exploded once, and _he_ was there to carry the load of the horcrux for her.

But when Ron had the horcrux, she noticed an immediate change in him. His eyes grew tired, and he no longer wore the crooked grin she loved. When he got off from his rage that night, she wanted to cry, to go to him and help him like he had for her just a few days prior.

"Why don't you just leave, then?" Harry yelled, giving Ron a challenging look. Ron looked once at Hermione, and she thought he might change her mind. She gave him a pleading look, trying to send him a signal through her expression. Her brain refused to connect to her mouth, refused to let her say the words she most desperately wanted to say. _Stay, Ron. Please._ Something clouded over his eyes, and he broke their gaze.

"Fine." And he walked away. She tried to follow him, tried to catch up. He was too fast. She pushed her way though undergrowth and the crowd of pine trees that invaded the forest, trying to find the place where he had disapparated. Soon, she found herself lost. A million emotions seeped into her brain, like a terrible rainstorm. Fear, and pain; the most incredible pain she had ever felt. When her brain had flooded, she collapsed, thinking only of him, no longer able to call his name.

Harry found her after a while of searching and picked her up from the bed of leaves she lay in. She was asleep, and looked almost peaceful. When the light of the tent illuminated her face, the illusion of peace evaporated. She had tear stains on her face, through scrapes and dirt. He placed her gently into her bed and walked away. She whimpered in her sleep, and her word was one he barely caught.

"Ron…" And she began to cry once more.


	8. You Did Everything

**This is the last part of the four part mini series. I was afraid I had lost it because I went to type it last week and couldn't find it, but it turns out that it was right under my nose. Mid-term stress is getting to me. Oh, well! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Please, even if i did own Harry Potter it would never be as good as J.K Rowling made it. **

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"_You're why she wants to live…she's not got that much more to give."_

The Long journey was barely over, no barely started, and something like _this _was happening. She lay on the floor, screaming in agony. Each curse was bullet, a stab straight into his own heart. He listened, not able to do anything, and it killed him. All he wanted was stop the pain. Anything to stop her cries. All at once, he was being dragged away. He screamed her name, desperate to get back to her. Leaving her again was the last thing he had ever wanted to do. There was a slamming of a door, and then darkness. He pounded on the door of the cell, still screaming, not ready to give up.

He remembers the yelling, the crash of a golden chandelier as it falls on her already fragile body. A portkey, a single thought, and the smell of fresh salt hit his nose. They were safe. He stayed on the sand, letting the sun warm his exhausted body, until he felt something shake against it. The memory of what had happened crashed back into his brain like the waves next to them and he held her close, calling frantically for Bill and Fleur. He picked her up and ran to them, gaining a second wind. His throat felt raw from screaming her name, but he continued to call, her safety more important than something as trivial as losing his voice.

They tried to take her. He refused. Fleur cautiously worked around him. He hadn't realized he was crying until Bill guided him out of the room. He put a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder and made him drink the tea that sat on the table before him. When he calmed down the best he could, the waiting began. He paced across the kitchen, concentrating on the sound of his feet as they hit the hard wood of the floor. He stood by the door and heard Fleur's voice from the other room, but heard no voice in response. She came back into the kitchen, almost hitting Ron with the door separating the two rooms. He stepped back in surprise, and his sister in law carried the three empty flasks she was holding to the sink.

"You can see 'er now, but if you wake 'er up, it'll be your 'ed." She teased, leading Ron into the spare room she had been moved into. At first he couldn't see her, but then she was all he could see. Her tiny form was enveloped in blanket after blanket, her unkempt hair sprawled across her face. Gently, he pushed her hair aside, revealing her face to him.

She had a long scar across her cheek, crossing briefly with one spanning from her forehead to her cheek. The space from her neck to her collarbone was covered in black and blue. He pulled a chair up to her bed and cautiously grabbed her hand. He heard a small groan, then blinking, she looked up at him.

Her eyes were wide and full of terror as she tried to take in her surroundings. She instinctively reached for her wand, twisting her body in a way which made sharp pains shoot up her spine. When she finally realized she was safe, she let everything go. He let her cry, reaching for her and closing the gap between them because she couldn't. When she was done, she spoke through her sniffing.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" she cried over and over. He had been rubbing gentle circles on her back, but stopped abruptly upon hearing her apology.

"Don't you dare say that." he began, his voice had become harsh, and she was startled. He took a moment to calm down, and then continued. "If anything, this was my fault. I should've done something, I should've tried harder to get to you, I-" She looked at him, shocked.

"But Ron, you did everything. I heard your shouting. I heard you and held on. I held on to your voice, I held on to you. You're the reason I'm alive." He didn't know what to say to her, but he climbed next to her in bed, pulled the covers over her, and held her. As they laid together, he listened to the ocean and the sound of her tiny snores as she drifted back to sleep. In that moment, he knew he would do anything to prevent her from feeling the pain she had felt that day.


End file.
